


Behind the Eyes

by Elvesliketrees



Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Flint-centric, Fluff, Gen, Getting Older, Little bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:19:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvesliketrees/pseuds/Elvesliketrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flint looks back on his relationships with each of the original companions before they head into Darken Wood (which it isn't!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> My first Dragonlance fic! I really loved the first three and found the relationships very interesting. I loved how some of them obviously distrusted one another, even though they'd known one another for years. The distrust between Raistlin and Flint really got me. Here's a guy who partially raised five kids and completely doesn't trust one of them! I got really interested in what Flint thought of each of the companions and also who he ended up adopting them, in a sense. I've never read the origin stories for the series, so the ages and exact events will probably be off, but this is how I envisioned Flint meeting everyone!

Flint Fireforge was an old dwarf. Oh, he’d lived a good life, he wasn’t saying that he hadn’t, but he knew that his time was nearly at an end. His bones constantly ached, his eyes were getting dimmer, his legs less able to support him. The kender he used to chase after in fun now waited for him with a confused look in his eyes. And so Flint Fireforge kept plugging along, lizard-men or no lizard-men. While they passed into the trees that were supposed to be Darken Wood (still didn’t believe it!) he thought of the role all these young people had played in his life.

\---

Tanis:

Flint looked up into silently pleading eyes and tried not to cry.  There stood a good lad, a half-elf lad, looking down with a wavering smile. “Please Flint?” he asked quietly. Though many years older than he was, Tanis Half-elven was about seventeen in human years. Flint knew that it would be work, taking a young sapling with him throughout Ansalon. When Flint reached up to stroke his beard, Tanis turned away with a whispered apology for taking up his time. Flint knew then, if he let the lad go now, that he’d never ask again.

“Lad?” he whispered. Tanis turned back slowly, caution painted on his face. “Pack your things,” he said quietly. Tanis stepped forward, looking like he might hug the dwarf, but decided against it and walked towards his home with a little spring in his step.

Flint would always know Tanis as his firstborn, his first in everything. He was the one who kept them together now. It used to be Flint, but somewhere along the line the leadership had shifted, and Flint didn’t complain. He saw the indecisiveness in Tanis’ eyes. He saw the fact that the lad couldn’t control so many of the things in his life, his heritage being the foremost on that list. And so, Flint let him have a little control. If the half-elf couldn’t control how people thought of him or who he fell in love with, he could at least control which direction they went. He saw how Tanis leaned on his shoulder, a shoulder that was getting old. He’d been expecting to retire when he reached Solace, but life has a way of taking you on adventures you never expect. And well, if Flint Fireforge complained twice as much and twice and loud, and told Tanis to ask Sturm for answers more often, then who was he to say anything?

\---

Sturm:

Flint slogged through the muddy path and shook the rain from his cloak. They were on their way to Palanthas, where they always got good prices for their items. He’d told Tanis to stay behind with the wagon and set up camp while he went into the nearest town for supplies. They were about two weeks from entering Solamnia, and a week more than that would pass before they even got a glimpse of Palanthas. He really ought to travel less, now that he was getting older, but with Tanis’ help he thought that they could still make his original route. After this rain, Flint had thoughts about becoming a barmaid and just staying inside. Maybe Tanis could cook… then he heard the coughing. He looked down to see a young man, about sixteen or seventeen, huddled under a tree at the side of the road. He had his arms tucked up over his head. Flint pretended not to hear the sniffles. The young man had a tattered cloak that didn’t offer much protection at all, and he was soaked to the bone. His pack was at his side, but the thing looked nearly empty. Another cough wracked the lad and Flint sighed. He really ought to go and get supplies, but he soon found himself walking towards the young lad. “You lost?” he asked, “I’m going to town, so if you would like some company…” Red-rimmed eyes met his and looked almost into his soul. Flint saw desperation there, and pain, so much pain. Another cough wracked the boy and Flint plunked down in the mud with him. “You’re much too skinny for a lad your age, let’s see what’s in this pack of yours,” Flint mumbled. He reefed through and found a dagger, some matches, a rope, and some spare clothes. “You’ll need food, young man,” Flint sighed.

“I’ll purchase some in the next town,” the boy said.

“By the look of things, you don’t have money to begin with. Where are your parents?” he asked.

“Mother’s dead, Father might be,” the lad choked out. Oh, the plague, the sickness that had swept through Krynn like a burning fire.

“You heading to relatives?” Flint asked. He might not be the nicest dwarf on Krynn, but he wouldn’t abandon a young lad.

“Father might be alive,” the lad said hopefully.

“The key word there is ‘might’, young man. Where is your father?” he asked cautiously. This conversation wasn’t going well, he didn’t think he’d be getting those supplies.

“In Solamnia, that’s where I’m heading,” the lad replied. The boy would never make it, with no food or money and nothing to hunt with. Judging by how sick he was, he’d be a corpse within two or three days. Well, Flint was not too fond of corpses himself.

“Well, what a happy coincidence! I just happen to be traveling that way myself!” he cried.

“I do not need your help,” the boy said with dignity.

“Oh, I think you do, and to be honest I need yours! I’m getting older and need help selling my wares, and the half-elf I’ve just recently hired can’t do everything! You can go back to your father when we reach Palanthas, or you can stay with me and Tanis,” Flint said.

“Help in exchange for room and board?” the boy asked.

“And some coin,” Flint pressed, if the father was dead, he would need it. “Thirty coins of the profits for you, thirty for Tanis, the other worker, and forty for me, and whatever’s left over split amongst us three,” Flint said.

“Twenty for me, thirty for this Tanis, and fifty for you,” the lad answered. Oh, this one would give him grey hairs.

“Fine,” Flint grumbled, he could use some money anyways. The lad brought for his hand to seal the promise, but Flint hesitated.

“You know that I don’t make deals with someone I don’t know,” Flint sighed.

“Sturm Brightblade, Master…?” the lad introduced.

“Flint Fireforge, but none of this master nonsense, it’s Flint,” the dwarf grunted, “Now come along, I need supplies and you need food.” If Flint bought a little more than he’d originally intended (and the lad needed a sword of course!), then that was no matter. When they came back to Tanis, the lad’s eyes seemed likely to jump out of his head.

“Tanis, this is Sturm, Sturm, this is Tanis, make friends,” Flint grunted. He flung himself on the ground and heard the shy introductions. When Tanis sat down with him after Sturm had gone to sleep, Flint looked at him.

“Is he staying?” Tanis asked.

“I hope so,” Flint sighed.

“Good, I like him,” Tanis stated.

And stay Sturm did (and Flint did not make up reasons for him to stay, that was a dirty lie spread by the mage and the kender!). Flint got to know the desperation behind his eyes quite well. The desperation that comes from knowing that something is gone, but dying for it and serving it anyways. If he made sure that he lectured Sturm every seven days about not charging into battle and how a hero’s death isn’t really that heroic at all (who is Huma anyways?!), then Flint wouldn’t say anything. If he made absolutely sure that Sturm’s armor was good and that he had a reason to stay, then Flint made sure to do it silently.

\---

Caramon and Raistlin:

“But I’m of age!” the young man protested. When Flint returned to Solace, he’d heard about the mine five miles from the town, how many young men had gone to join. The Theocrat had asked him to check the mine, make sure it was safe before Solace sent too many of their men. Flint had found it good, and very prosperous. He was whistling a dwarven mining song when he came out of the shaft. And there Flint came upon the lad.

“I’m sorry lad, but I don’t need workers,” the foreman sighed.

“Please, my sister isn’t here, and I need the money!” the lad pleaded.

“I’m sorry lad,” the man sighed, seeming sorry indeed. The lad walked away with a slump to his shoulders and sat down heavily under a tree. Flint had come to Solace for a break, and also for another worker. Business was booming, and right now he’d carve in the wagon while Tanis drove and Sturm guarded, but Flint wanted another fighter. “Oh I’m sorry sir, did you need something?” the lad sniffled.

“Lad, how old are you, really?” he asked.

“Sixteen,” the lad said quietly.

“Why would you need a job so desperately?” Flint asked.

“My mother died a month ago, and my father two months before that. My sister makes money as a mercenary, but I don’t know when she’ll come back, if she will. My brother is a mage in his studies, and the masters don’t allow them to work. His studies end in seven days, so he’ll be able to help me then,” the lad replied.

“How are you and your brother with fighting?” Flint asked thoughtfully. He’d never thought to get a mage before. It might be a good idea to have an extra fighter, or even just someone who might have some knowledge of other realms. The lad instantly perked up when Flint asked the question.

“I’m very good with a sword, and I’m sure that Raist knows enough spells!” the lad said excitedly.

“And who are you?” Flint asked.

“Caramon Majere, and my brother is Raistlin, we’re twins!” the big lad said enthusiastically.

“It’s good to meet you Caramon, I am Flint, but before I hire anyone I suppose I ought to meet Raistlin!” Flint said. Caramon clapped him on the shoulder and led him to a run-down home. There was a lad inside, wearing the white robes that all apprentice mages bore.

“Brother, did you get the job?” he asked quietly.

“No, but I got one with Mr. Fireforge here, we’ll both be leaving with him once you finish your studies! I tried to get a job at the mine, but they wouldn’t let me in, and Mr. Fireforge hired us once he learned that we were sixteen!” Caramon explained. Raistlin eyed the dwarf with an imperious and searching gaze.

“It is good to meet you Mr. Fireforge, you have my thanks,” Raistlin said.

“Call me Flint, and it’s good to meet you too,” Flint grunted. He stayed for a good while, talking with the twins, and left with instructions to meet him at the edge of town in eight days. The mage was smart, he could see that right off, but he didn’t trust him. He could see the thirst, the thirst for power behind his eyes. And when Flint saw that thirst, he saw the hurt in his brother’s. The knowledge that Raistlin would do whatever it took to sate that thirst, even if it meant giving up his protector. Well, maybe Flint was wrong, he shouldn’t judge when he didn’t know. When Caramon and Raistlin came jingling up eight days later with heavy packs, Sturm grinned when he saw Caramon.

“Caramon!” he cried, “You are the other fighter Flint hired?” Caramon blushed a deep red.

“Sturm knew us both when he lived in Solace,” Caramon said with small grin. He clasped arms with the young lad and smiled.

“I thought you were on your way to Solamnia,” Raistlin said quietly.

“I was, mage, when Flint offered me a job guarding his wares,” Sturm stated proudly.

“Well, we’ll be with you then!” Caramon said, trying to ease the tension.

“I thought you were both too young to be travelling with us anyways,” Sturm said confusedly.

“Now lad,” Flint chided, “They’re both sixteen, just as old as you.” Sturm threw him an amazed gaze. Caramon blushed a deep red and Raistlin grimaced.

“They’re not sixteen. They’re thirteen, both of them. Caramon is just big for his age and Raistlin was allowed to progress in his studies faster than normal, due to his talent,” Sturm chuckled. Flint saw red.

“Thirteen?! What in the name of Reorx made you two think I would want to hire a brace of children?!” he yelled.

“We are very mature, or at least I am,” Raistlin mused.

“You’re thirteen!” Flint cried.

“I can wield a sword, Kitiara taught me, and a deal’s a deal!” Caramon cried. That stopped Flint in his tracks. Where would these two go if not with him? And besides, a deal was a deal.

And so, his company grew to five, and Flint only regretted it sometimes. Raistlin was right, he was very mature, among other things. Flint saw the darkness in him, and it scared him. He loved the jovial warrior, but he held a certain respect towards Raistlin. He would scold the mage at every turn, but he needed to warn Raistlin to beware the thirst, there was such a thing as too much power. He couldn’t lose his cunning and weak mage. He only hoped that he would be loud enough. He looked at Caramon each time he scolded Raistlin, hoping that he would lessen the hurt. He knew that one day Raistlin would leave them all to fulfill his destiny, and he hoped that Caramon would be able to take it. He needed to warn Raistlin to beware of his power, and Caramon to beware of his brother.

\---

Tasslehoff Burrfoot (!!!):

Damn those eyes, those big, brown eyes.

“C’mon Flint, just let the authorities handle it,” Tanis said quietly, sensing his doubt. The kender cringed between the two guards at the fair.

“Aye, he stole a valuable bracelet!” Sturm agreed.

“I didn’t mean to steal it!” the kender pleaded. The guard on his left gave him a shake to silence him.

“Of course you didn’t,” Raistlin said sarcastically. Flint threw the boy of fourteen a glare.

“Maybe we should listen to him Raist,” Caramon said quietly.

“But he stole!” Sturm spluttered.

“Sturm and Caramon, I’ll need you two to go and check the wagon to see if anything else is missing. Tanis and Raistlin, I want you to go and get our supplies for the journey,” Flint commanded. He might only be the one who hired them, but he would dare anyone to argue that they didn’t have to listen to him, as none of them were of age. They all set off to their assigned tasks with a small amount of grumbling. He watched them go and knelt in front of the young kender.

“What’s your name lad, and how old are you?” he asked.

“Tasslehoff Burrfoot, and I’m eighteen years old,” he said quietly.

“Did you mean to steal the bracelet?” Flint asked.

“Oh no! I just picked it up from the ground, you must have dropped it!” the kender said excitedly, glad that someone was listening to him.

“Let him go,” Flint sighed. The authorities pushed the kender down, murmuring as they walked away.

“Oh thank you so much I thought I was going to go to jail but now I’m not thank you thank you thank you!” the kender squealed, latching onto his leg. If he was eighteen in kender years, that would make him about fifteen in human.

“Your welcome, but no more stealing!” Flint scolded. The kender shook his head so fast that his topknot smacked Flint on the leg. When Flint got up to head to the wagon, the kender followed him.

“Well go on, back to your parents,” Flint shooed.

“Uh-uh, I’m coming with you!” the kender squealed.

“Oh no, no no no no!” the dwarf cried as he backed up. The kender latched onto his leg. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” Flint groaned.

“Nope!” the kender chirped. Flint groaned and dragged leg and kender to the wagon.

And thus Tasslehoff Burrfoot was introduced to the human world. Flint saw the confusion in the kender’s eyes when humans spited or ridiculed him. And if he yelled at the kender so as to teach him what the world was really like for when he would leave it, then no one but he really need know.

 

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Comments and reviews are always appreciated and thank you for reading!


End file.
